


c'est la vie

by Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams



Series: I'll burn here to keep you [2]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Anger Management, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Communication, Demoncest, Family Feels, Family Issues, Fluff and Smut, Healing, Injury Recovery, M/M, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Permanent Injury, Personal Growth, Self-Discovery, Self-Worth Issues, Will add tags as I go, aka Mammon loses a set of wings, character death in the form of lilith, normal demon stuff, set after their fall from grace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams/pseuds/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams
Summary: In the midst of their Fall from Grace, Mammon is left trying to hold the pieces of a broken family together while Lucifer distances himself.With Satan left in his care, it's up to Mammon to try to teach him right from wrong; as if he even knows what that means anymore.(aka Mammon's journey to being more than Lucifer's Second and Satan's realization that he can be more than a discarded ball of emotion)
Relationships: Lucifer/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: I'll burn here to keep you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888507
Comments: 19
Kudos: 134





	c'est la vie

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You'll have to ask your dad](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24562459) by [DefenstrationProtestation (Sand_Cursive)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sand_Cursive/pseuds/DefenstrationProtestation). 



> shoutout to DefenstrationProtestation (Sand_Cursive)'s works which continue to wreck me. This fic wouldn't leave my head after I read You'll have to ask your dad and I was heavily inspired by Satan's parts
> 
> Tried to be stubborn and keep this as a long one-shot but it did not agree so here we are with another chapter fic

Mammon makes his way down into the underbelly of the house on silent feet. _Their_ house. Dark and dreary and standing in opposition of everything he had once known. It's as if Diavolo has made it a point to remind them of everything they have lost. 

Torches light his way. The cold stone is a balm against his feverish skin. He's been consumed in flame since his Fall, though it is uncertain if it's due to the infection running rampant through his veins. His back throbs with a pointed reminder that he should not be up and about.

He cannot listen. 

He has been tasked with taking care of everyone in the wake of Lucifer's absence. There is no one else to take his place; no one who wouldn't crumble.

Stairs open up into an expansive room full of flickering candles. They drip wax from the walls, the alcoves they cover. If they weren't white it would appear as if the very building was bleeding.

A sarcophagus lays on an altar at the end of the morbid scene; empty of the body it stands for. Two lumps lay curled up at the base. 

Mammon sighs and approaches. 

Beelzebub and Belphegor have been the most distraught. Perhaps Beel most of all, considering the state of his twin. Belphie can hardly stay awake long enough to eat on a good day, and good days are so few and far between. 

Mammon unfolds the blanket in his arms. He bends, lays it out over their tangled limbs. Straightens, breathes through the white pain of his vision. 

He steadies himself on Lilith's memorial before forcing himself onward. There is another he must visit before resting. Someone who is equally lost. 

Mammon takes the next set of steps down, climbing ever deeper into the belly of the Devildom. The torches fight to keep the shadows at bay. They become wicked, reaching things in the dark. Hounding his every step. 

A low snarling reaches his ears halfway down. A rhythmic thumping follows, like the broken sound of a drum. 

He reaches the end of the steps and pauses, takes a breath. Already the stench of blood both old and new is flooding his senses. It's sickening.

"I'm back," he says tiredly, as if he hasn't been sensed several flights ago. 

A raspy growl is his answer. 

He walks around the bend of the hall. A cage sits before him, lit up by the line of torches on the walls. Glowing green eyes meet his own.

Mammon had wanted to argue against putting Lucifer's-- _creation_ in such a horrible arrangement. Unfortunately, he cannot risk the others. They're still far too weak and there is no place better fortified for such a task than the House of Lamentation's dungeons. 

"I brought you a few different things." He presses his fingers to the door. A pulse of his magic and it swings open long enough to emit him inside. It locks behind him. 

A tail chiseled into dangerous grooves lashes in agitation. The squeal of metal fills the air as the demon before him crouches.

Mammon pauses out of range of the chains that bind him. He lowers himself to the floor slowly, painfully. He doesn't need to keep up pretenses here. They are both broken in their own ways.

He opens the basket he's been using to ferry food back and forth from the kitchen. Inside is an assortment of foods he hopes will satisfy his charge. He pushes them past the line of safety.

"Wrath," Mammon says, for he has no other name for the creature Lucifer has left in his care. "will you speak?"

He is ignored. 

A clawed hand snatches a rat from the pile. Sharp teeth sink into its flesh and eat muscle and bone alike.

Mammon swallows bile. He is still not used to the diet of demons. He doubts he ever will be. 

His charge guzzles down water so eagerly half of it soaks his face and chest. He is naked save for the filth that streaks his skin; any clothes Mammon has offered have been shredded and made into what appears to be a nest.

He can't blame him. The dungeons aren't comfortable.

When all is said and done, Mammon collects the empty containers and stands once more.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he says, as he always does.

Wrath does not speak, as he always doesn't.

* * *

"It's getting worse," Minera says grimly. She touches a damp cloth to the open wounds on his back; it comes away almost purple. "the infection is strong. I'd hoped the removal of the limb would begin to clear it but it seems it was further along than expected."

"So?" He grits out. "Ya have to cut the other ones off too?"

She squeezes his shoulder. "No. I do need to drain the wound, though."

Mammon stifles a groan. He shifts onto his side, arm stretched over his head to allow her to get at the puffy stitches that mark the place his second pair of wings had once been. 

Tears prick his eyes when a needle inserts itself close to the tender area. Numbness follows after it and allows him to relax enough for her to make several incisions.

The reek of rot fills his nose and threatens to make him heave. He tries not to think about the liquid he can feel running down his side. 

"Your body is still so new, I can't risk putting much more magic into your system." Minera sighs. "I'm going to pack it with more herbs but rest is truly what you need. You should stay here where I can monitor you."

"Can't."

"So you keep saying." Her disapproval is clear, but her hands remain gentle. She wraps him in bandages once more and cleans the sweat from his face with a cool cloth. 

"I want you back here in two days."

He winces as he stands. Sways, steadies himself against the bed. 

"Yeah," he mumbles. "okay."

* * *

"I'm back," he pants as he reaches the end of the stairs. He presses his forehead against the cool stone until he stops seeing black spots. 

There's no thump of stone this time, only the faint hiss-growl that he's come to recognize as a greeting.

Mammon opens the door and steps inside, as usual. He's less than graceful when he sprawls out onto his side. He shoves the basket past his reach and into his charge's.

"Eat." 

Metal rattles before going still. Mammon frowns when he doesn't hear the basket open. He looks up and yelps when he realizes Wrath is crouched just a few inches away.

Those poison green eyes bore into his skin unhappily. The furrow of his brow is more frustrated than angry, though Mammon can't see what has made the difference.

"Do ya not like rats, anymore? I guess I'd get sick of 'em too if I had to eat them every day, but Beel keeps cleanin' out the kitchen--"

He freezes when a clawed hand lifts. Wrath can't reach him with the limit of the chain, despite how he strains. A snarl that splatters spittle onto the stone floor practically shakes the walls.

A warning crack comes from the bones of his wrist.

"Hey! Knock it off! You're gonna hurt yourself and the last thing I need is another injury to deal with!" 

Wrath pauses. Tilts his head. 

There is comprehension on his face where normally there is nothing but cold suspicion. Mammon dares to hope.

"Wrath," he whispers. "will you speak?"

He holds his gaze for what feels like an eternity. Wrath searches his face, lets out a soft huff and turns to the basket to eat.

He does not speak.

* * *

Mammon bleeds through his bandages during the night. The stench has him heaving what little is in his stomach onto the floor.

He manages to make it to the shower before he collapses into unconsciousness. 

* * *

He doesn't announce himself when he reaches the bottom of the staircase. He _walksstumblescrawls_ towards the door and unlocks it. His head hurts from where he'd hit it on the side of his bathroom counter. His back feels sticky with blood.

He collapses onto the floor, body still halfway in the doorway. 

"Hah... fuck..." His claws bite into the stone but he can't get up. He can barely lift his head.

Is this how he dies? Cold and alone and abandoned by the one he loves?

Tears slip down his cheeks.

Metal and stone screech. Something snaps but he can't look, can barely stay awake. His shirt rips under something sharp and he whimpers when it nicks his skin.

His bandages follow with it, airing the horror that is his back to the world. There's what could be a growl--or perhaps those are words?

A warm streak presses into his skin, just above the base of his spine, where his wound starts. It follows the curve of the amputation, pausing only for his stitches to come loose.

It's agony.

Mammon can't get away.

He blacks out once, twice, he loses count. The warmth is always there, and in its wake comes a blissful cool. It's the first time he's felt relief on his hot skin. He practically sobs with it.

His pain eases, though it's uncertain how long he lays there. It could be minutes. It could be days. His entire existence is narrowed down to that single line of branching relief. 

"Lu," Mammon chokes out, hoping beyond hope that Lucifer is with him, as he always has been. As he hasn't since their defeat.

"No," Wrath says, before he falls down into a sleep that is devoid of pain.

It is the first since his Fall. 

* * *

He wakes up to the howl of a beast. Mammon jolts upright with a gasp, unsure of where he is or what's going on.

"Mammon!" Asmodeus falls to his knees beside him and helps him sit up. There are tears in his eyes. "I thought--we couldn't find you--"

His back doesn't hurt, he realizes, as he takes in the tattered remains of what had been his shirt and bandages. His eyes follow forward to the wall where Wrath is--where he should be. There is nothing but the rubble of a collapsed wall. 

Mammon jolts upright and nearly staggers into the metal bars of the cage. "Where--!"

He doesn't need an answer. Not when he can see it for himself.

The space is small, taken up even further by the impressive expanse of Lucifer's wings. He wards off the rage of his creation and lets out a challenging roar of his own.

"Stop it!" Mammon tries to rush forward only to be stopped by a hand at his wrist.

"They'll kill you!" Asmo shouts. "What were you doing with him all alone in the first place?!"

"I--" He can't remember Wrath breaking free but he's alive and uninjured. The same will not be said for Wrath if he continues. 

He feels stronger than he has in weeks. It's enough for him to get his arms around Wrath from behind, to pin his arms by his sides and hold him as still as he can given the circumstances. 

"Stop!" Mammon looks to Lucifer, whose eyes gleam such a bright red they cast shadows across his face. "Lu, go upstairs--"

His charge thrashes. A yowl that speaks of betrayal rings Mammon's ears.

"You expect me to leave you with _this--_ "

"Yes! Now go!" 

Asmo's eyes dart between the three of them. He touches a hand to Lucifer's shoulder and flinches when he earns a growl.

"I'll stay by the stairs. He's agitated by your presence."

Lucifer sneers. For a moment it appears that he won't leave; then there is nothing but shadow where he once stood.

Wrath lunges after him, teeth snapping. Mammon grunts and adjusts his hold. 

"Breathe," he coaches. "come on, Wrath, stay with me."

Blood and spittle go flying with his next roar. Mammon winces. 

"You--helped me, yeah? Ya didn't have to do that. Ya could have killed me and made your escape. So don't--don't prove him right." Mammon has been sick for weeks with an infection that has been eating him alive. Whatever strength he'd previously found is fading fast. 

"Wrath, please," he takes a risk and lets him go. Darts ahead and blocks the exit. Blocks Asmo and everyone else who waits upstairs. "talk to me. Break the walls if you need to break somethin'." 

Wrath paces like a caged animal, teeth bared and eyes alight with a manic light.

"--take his side."

Mammon sucks in a sharp breath. "What?"

"He abandoned you!" Wrath roars. "Left you for dead! Yet you still take his side!"

It hurts. Feels like having his wings removed all over again; like being torn apart and waking up in a crater of his own ruin. 

"...that's what happens when ya love someone," he whispers. "it's hard to give up on 'em. Even if they give up on you."

There's a sound from behind him; Asmo, surely, though he can't focus on his brother right now. 

Mammon's eyes dart to the open door of the cell. A chunk of stone flies past his face and slams into the wall behind him.

"No!" Wrath roars. "I will not go back!" 

"Okay." Mammon runs shaky hands through his hair and tries to think. Lucifer has always been the master strategist. The ache of his missing shadow is ever present. "Let me just--I have to do some things first, before ya can come up. Please."

Suspicion is his answer, born through narrow eyes. "You will let me out?" 

"Yes. I promise." 

Wrath's tail flicks once. He strides over to his cell, shoots Mammon one last withering glare and yanks the door closed behind him. 

"I will bring this house down if you break your word."

Mammon nods. Smiles faintly. "That's fair."

* * *

"What are you doing?" Asmo hisses on their way up the stairs. "You were never supposed to go into the cell! And what's going on with your back, it's--"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does! You were bleeding and unconscious!" 

Mammon grits his teeth. His legs threaten to shake with every step, a telltale sign that he has exhausted all energy reserves. 

He can feel Lucifer growing closer. His power calls out to him; beckons him closer where its owner would otherwise push him away. Mammon has learned the hard way not to follow its pull.

He makes it to the upper floor with the help of Asmo's arm around his waist. Admittedly, he's being carried more than he's walking.

Lucifer takes one look at him and huffs. "Asmo, leave us."

"But--"

" _Asmodeus_."

"It's okay," Mammon mumbles. He lets go of his hold on Asmo's shoulders and nudges him towards the next set of stairs. "I'll be up soon."

Asmo radiates disapproval but goes with one last backward glance. 

Alone with Lucifer, Mammon feels cold for the first time since his Fall. 

"What," Lucifer seethes. "were you doing?"

"Taking care of him. Like you told me to."

"I never said to endanger your life. He was chained and caged for a reason--"

"He healed me!" Mammon shouts. 

Lucifer's wings flare in surprise. His hand shoots up to his chest. "Excuse me?"

"You--ya really don't know." 

Mammon's bottom lip trembles. His fingers move to curl into his shirt only to realize he has nothing left. 

"Enlighten me."

"I called for you. I asked you to come but you never did."

"I've been busy--"

"They cut my wings off, Lucifer!" He wraps his arms around his stomach and shudders. For the first time since his surgery, he shifts. His wings are as foreign as the rest of him, now. A thick leathery texture with no sign of feathers. They're not comforting when they wrap over his shoulders.

"They cut my wings off and I--I asked for ya but you weren't there." Tears stream down his face. "They said I couldn't wait any longer. That I'd die. So I let them do it and when I woke up ya hadn't even answered my texts."

"What did I do, huh? What did I do to make you h-hate me so much--"

"...I don't hate you."

A bitter laugh shakes his chest.

" _Mammon_. I don't hate you."

He's not prepared for Lucifer to wrap him up in his wings. He's not prepared for the croon that sounds in his ear.

His arms wrap tight around Lucifer's neck as a wail bubbles up from his chest. "Lu--"

"I'm sorry," Lucifer says quietly. "I did not--" He sighs and runs a cautious hand over the skin between Mammon's shoulder blades. "I will do better."

Mammon pulls him down but Lucifer is the one to close the remaining distance between their lips. A lost whine bubbles up from Mammon's chest. He is so cold, saved only from freezing by Lucifer's touch. 

It does not matter that the cold is Lucifer's fault, as well. Mammon loves him too much to pull away.

"Don't leave again," he begs.

Lucifer's wings tighten. "I have to."

Ripping his heart out would have been much kinder. 

* * *

Mammon wakes up in Lucifer's bed, cold and alone.

He stains the pillows in his tears and orders a little D to change the sheets before Lucifer returns.

 _If_ Lucifer returns.

* * *

"I'm back," Mammon says, as his feet touch flat ground. He rounds the curve of the hall and comes face to face with Wrath.

If he has opinions about the redness of his eyes, or the time it took Mammon to come get him, he doesn't say so.

He takes the basket from Mammon's hands and digs in with all the grace of a starving beast. 

Mammon feels a stab of guilt. “Sorry it took so long. I had to talk to the others.”

He gets no response. 

“Are we really goin’ back to the silent treatment? You had no problem talkin’ to me before.”

“I have nothing to say,” Wrath mutters around a bone. It snaps under the pressure of his jaws.

“I doubt that.”

He stiffens. A horrible screeching sound fills the air as he digs a trench into the floor beneath him with his claws. “I _don’t_ ,” he snaps. The twin pair of fangs protruding from his upper and lower lips slur the words. “So stop looking at me like that!” 

Mammon sighs and looks away. He’s still so tired. Too tired to deal with such aggression. 

“My back is healed. Whatever ya did--thanks. Probably woulda died otherwise.”

“Your blood tasted like rot. You were an idiot to keep coming here.” 

“Taste--ya tasted it?!”

Wrath’s tail thrashes as he spits out a hiss. “Would you rather be _dead_?”

Mammon backstracks, forces himself to breathe. It’s been a long time since he’s had to mentor someone and the Fall makes things hazy. Everything seems so distant now.

“You did well,” he says in place of an answer. “I’m proud of you.”

Wrath stills. He’s like a statue; Mammon can’t even hear him breathe. He stares back, locked in some sort of battle he’s not quite sure he can win. 

“...can we leave now?” 

His cheeks are flushed ever so slightly. How interesting.

Mammon notes praise as a possible tool for training. 

“Only if ya promise not to hurt the others. They’re--still recoverin’. Especially Beel and Belphie.”

“The twins,” he says confidently.

Mammon’s eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“I can--remember bits of _Lucifer’s_ ”--he sneers, spitting the name like a curse--”life and knowledge. Especially what he was thinking when I was torn free.”

No wonder he’d been so distraught being brought into the dungeon. If he remembered Lucifer’s thoughts--one of his first memories would have been of Lilith dying in his arms. Being forsaken. Losing. 

Mammon lets out a slow breath. He can see where the anger might come from. 

“Come on.” He stands and holds his hand out. “Don’t let go. If ya need to break somethin’, ya break my hand. I won’t let anyone get hurt.”

Wrath slots his fingers in between Mammon’s. His grip is hard, unrelenting, claws biting into the skin of Mammon’s knuckles. “You don’t count?” 

“No,” he says quietly. “Not at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> pls ramble with me about these chaotic fools. I have a lot of feelings and comments are food
> 
> find me on tumblr @ apassintohell
> 
> [playlist](https://discordapp.com/channels/705463471872933898/710190322134548510/757336817237229649)


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